The Manhattan Club smelled of old leather, cigar smoke, and exclusion.
Nova walked past the maître d', ignoring his sputtered protest about her denim jeans. She pushed open the door to the private suite.
Two men sat inside.
Roman Knight sat in the shadows. He was darker than she expected. Dark hair, dark suit, eyes like obsidian. He radiated a cold, predatory energy. He was reading something on a tablet.
Silas Montgomery, his best friend, sat opposite him, nursing a whiskey. He looked Nova up and down and smirked.
"I'm Nova Sterling," she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
Roman didn't look up. "You're thirty seconds late."
"Security took a while," Nova said, pouring herself a glass of water. "Your biometric scanners are slow."
Silas laughed. "So, you're the charity case? The Sterling reject? Bryce Calloway really did a number on you, huh?"
Nova took a sip of water. "Your intel is decent."
"College dropout. Unemployed. Living off daddy's money," Silas listed off, ticking his fingers. "What makes you think you can sit at this table?"
"General Knight asked me to be here," Nova said calmly. "I didn't ask for this."
Roman finally looked up. His face was sharp, angular, handsome in a cruel way. "My grandfather is senile."
Nova's eyes drifted to the table. Next to Roman's hand was a copy of Automotive Weekly. The cover featured a prototype armored vehicle-the Vanguard.
"The suspension is wrong," Nova said, pointing at the magazine.
Roman followed her gaze. He frowned. "Excuse me?"
"The Vanguard," she said. "Center of gravity is too high. If it takes an IED hit from the side, it'll roll."
Roman's eyes narrowed. "That is a classified prototype. How do you know about the suspension geometry?"
"I follow military tech blogs," she lied smoothly. It was a partial truth. She wrote the technical specs for them under a pseudonym.
Silas burst out laughing. "Oh, wow. She's a pathological liar too! Roman, this is rich."
Roman looked at her with pure disgust. "Do you think lying about military tech impresses me? It's pathetic."
Nova shrugged. "Think what you want."
Roman stood up, buttoning his jacket. "I have no interest in this. Or you. Leave."
Nova didn't move. "The General said you'd say that. That's why your trust fund is frozen."
Roman froze. His hand stopped halfway to his pocket.
"How do you know that?" Silas asked, his smile vanishing.
Nova pulled out her phone. "Because I wrote the freeze protocol."
Roman leaned over the table, invading her space. He smelled of sandalwood and danger. "You are playing a dangerous game, little girl."
Nova looked up at him. She didn't blink. She didn't flinch.
"I brought the decryption key," she said. "And I'm the only one who knows the password."
